


The Monster Under the Bed

by SHARKMARTINI



Category: Carry On - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Anal Sex, Bottom Baz, Fantasy, First Time, M/M, Masturbation, Sex, Sex Toys, SnowBaz, Sorry Not Sorry, Top Simon, Unrealistic Sex, alternating pov
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-05
Updated: 2017-05-05
Packaged: 2018-10-28 12:08:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10830975
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SHARKMARTINI/pseuds/SHARKMARTINI
Summary: There is a box under Baz's bed.





	The Monster Under the Bed

**Author's Note:**

> This is a little more explicit than the stuff I usually see in this fandom, sorry if that's inappropriate. This is literally just porn.

** SIMON **

 

I'm sitting next Penny in Greek, but I can't concentrate on anything that the minotaur has said for the past hour. I try desperately to look anywhere else, but my eyes won't stop trying to find the back of Baz's head. Penny has already warned me twice to pay attention, and I know if I keep this up she won't let me borrow her notes- but Crowley. I can see Penny give me another warning look from the corner of my eye, and I know she can tell how frayed I feel- like I might go off at any moment, the magic sparking down my nerves and out of control.

 

I take deep breaths and try to force myself to stop thinking about it- about anything. But then Baz turns around and gives me this _look_. A week ago I would have snarled back at him, taking the threat at face value. But now it takes everything in me to turn away, and try and mind my own business.

 

He's probably confused. Baz is always able to get under my skin, and he's going to wonder why I'm not falling for it today. Usually, I can't help it, but Baz has already managed to get under my skin, and like this- this just won't stop.

 

It's all his fault, of course. I wouldn't have overslept if I hadn't been awake half the night, trying to catch him coming back to our room after having sucked the life out of rats down in the catacombs. I know he can't hurt me with the anathema, but it doesn't mean that one day he won't snap and try.

 

So when I woke up late, to the sound of the door snapping shut behind him, well- I already knew everything that came from this was going to be his fault. I was rushing to get my trousers on, so that I could at least grab a little breakfast before classes began. In hindsight, it would have been better if I wasn't rushing so much, I'm hardly coordinated at the best of times, and with the threat of missing breakfast hanging over my head- well.

 

Stubbing my toe on something hard under Baz's bed was surprising for a couple of reasons. First, as much as I hate sharing a room with him, even I have to admit that he's inhumanly neat, and shoving things under his bed doesn't really fit his style of neatly packing everything away in his wardrobe and carefully alphabetizing his books on the shelf above his desk. Secondly, I make it my business to know Baz's business, and he's always so careful to keep anything that might seem even remotely suspicious hidden far away from our room. So something he'd think needed to be hidden under the bed, couldn't be good news for me.

 

It's so rare that I'm right, and I wish I could take comfort in the fact that I was. But I just couldn't see how terrible everything was about to become for me.

 

I thought about Baz's right to privacy for about 2 seconds before I decided (rightfully so) that once someone decides to be evil, they kind of forfeit that privilege. The box was plain, black, rectangular. Really, opening it was the only thing I could do- there were no warning signs to stop me from making the worst decision of my life.

 

For a second, nothing changed and I just stood there, waiting for my brain to catch up with what I was seeing.

 

Then-

 

I lost it.

\--------------------------------------------------

 

At first, I tried to ignore it. Going to class and trying to take notes, hanging out with Penny and Agatha between classes, spending as much time away from our room as possible.

 

I didn't even last a week before I slowly started to go crazy.

 

Penny noticed it first.

 

"Why do you keep acting like a spaz around Basil?" Penny asks during breakfast on the third morning after. She's barely paying attention, and she's probably only asked because I haven't tried making small talk at all today, or yesterday even. It's like she knows bringing him up will get me to open up, and curses- she's probably right.

 

"What do you mean?" I ask shiftily, glancing at the back of his head from across the dining hall before quickly looking down at my eggs and sausages before anyone can see.

 

"Simon." Penny is giving me _a look_ and I know it means things she is too nice to say to her best friend. Things like 'Don't be an idiot Simon'.

 

"Every time Basil has come anywhere near you you've practically run away. When he walked by us this morning on the way to breakfast you flinched so hard you pulled a muscle in your neck". She's not lying, it had actually really hurt. Not one of my finest moments.

 

"Did you guys have a fight?" She almost looks concerned, even though it would be more unusual for us not to be fighting about something.

 

I take a second and imagine saying it to her, saying the words out loud.

 

'Baz keeps a purple dildo in a box under his bed.'

'Simon, what have I told you about respecting people's privacy?'

'But he's evil Pen! He doesn't deserve the privilege-'

'Privacy isn't a privilege Simon, it's a fundamental human right!

'He's not even human!'

'We can't prove that!'

 

I decide to go in another direction.

 

"When are we not fighting?" I stare at my eggs so hard I'm worried I might accidentally set them on fire. It works, but only barely. I can see Penny thinking about it, and then deciding to drop the subject, instead trying to get my opinion on last night's Magickal words homework.

 

I'm glad she's dropped it for now, because this is fine. It's all fine. I was just surprised is all. But really, it's none of my business where Baz sticks it- or where he wants to have it stuck to him, really. The facts are that Baz has a dildo (a _purple dildo_ ) under his bed, and it's fine. I literally couldn't care less. It's fine.

\------------------------------------------------------------------

**BAZ**

 

Something is really wrong with Snow. Well honestly, there are quite a few things wrong with Snow, but this time it's something new, something bigger.

 

He usually does a pretty shite job at pretending to tolerate having me around, but for the past few days it's like even that is too much for his delicate brain and he's just stopped pretending at all. If I had to guess, I'd say he seems to be on the way to some kind of nervous breakdown. He's been jumping at everything I say, flinching every time we so much as make eye contact, and late at night when I drag myself back to our tower after feeding, I can see him staring straight up at the cracks on our ceiling, not even trying to fall asleep. What a psycho.

 

I'm torn between sadistic amusement at his imminent melt down, and the tender part of me that is worried about him. Which is ridiculous, since it's obvious that whatever this is it's all happening inside Snow's own head- a misery of his own making. This has nothing to do with me.

 ------------------------------------------------------------------

**SIMON**

 

It's not fine.

 

I'm finally ready to admit to this five sleepless nights later. All I do is lie in bed listening to Baz's breathing and trying to think about something, anything other than the dildo ( _the purple dildo_ ) sitting 4 feet away from my own bed. The days have blurred together, and Agatha has taken it upon herself to break up with me- again. Actually it would have been the perfect excuse for my behaviour this week if I hadn't been so obviously disturbed before it all went down.

 

And I'm pretty sure Baz is starting to become suspicious. It's only  matter of time before he tries to confront me, and prod me into going off.

 

I shouldn't be thinking about Baz. Penny would die if she knew how much I've thought of him this week. I wish I had a good reason. At first, I wondered if I was secretly homophobic, if something about this whole situation had awoken something ugly in me. But now I'm almost ready to accept that there's another, different reason I can't stop thinking about this whole thing, and it's something I never would have accepted, but this single minded focus has forced me to be truthful with myself.

 

I am obsessed with the idea of Baz using it.

 ------------------------------------------------------------------

**BAZ**

 

It doesn't take a genius to figure it out. Snow is so transparent, it's a wonder he even tries to hide anything from anyone. It didn't take more than a few furtive looks at the space under my bed when he thinks I'm not paying attention for everything to fit together.

 

Crowley.

 

Trust Snow to  go through my things looking for evidence of whatever it is he thinks I'm up to these days. What a moron. This sort of situation would normally be kind of embarrassing for me, I mean these things are generally _private_ , but the thought of Snow being on the edge of a nervous breakdown over this is surprisingly hilarious, and I'm too satisfied with this comeuppance to feel any sort of embarrassment at all.

 

'You brought this on yourself, Snow', I think to myself as I brush by him in the hallways and watch him jump away, looking for all intents and purposes like he threw himself into the castle wall. I let myself indulge a little, lying in bed reading over my politickal science essay, I let my hand drag along the floor, toying with the edge of the box I know Snow knows is there.

 

Watching his eyes bug out from across the room where he is pretending to do his Greek homework is just as gratifying as I thought it would be, and I let myself have a private laugh at his discomfort. Serves him right.

 ------------------------------------------------------------------

** SIMON **

 

It's been a hell of a week. I keep falling asleep in class, my best friend is convinced I'm about to completely lose it, and my girlfriend has broken up with me. If I don't get it together soon I'm going to be too far behind in classes to ever make it up.

 

I'm so rattled that it takes me what feels like ages to realize what an idiot I've been. I haven't even stopped to consider the idea that Baz is behind all of this- I mean, of course he is, but I never even thought that maybe this was his plan all along. To freak me out and coerce me into having a mental breakdown.

 

I can't believe I didn't think about this before, it makes perfect sense! While I've been distracted with this whole dildo business who knows what Baz has been plotting. Joke's on him though, because now I have it all figured out. I stomp up to our room after dinner, ready to give him a piece of my mind because, really. It's been awful and he's gone too far, purposefully messing with my mind the last week.

 

"I'm onto you!" He turns from where he's sitting at his desk, idly writing something on his notes. He does that thing with his eyebrows I hate, and I watch them lift as he studies me appraisingly. At least he's giving me his attention this time.

 

"Are you now? And what exactly are you accusing me of doing this time?" Everything about his attitude gets on my nerves, from the barely contained boredom in his voice, to the careful way he's turning back to his notes, like he knows whatever I have to say has no hope of keeping his interest.

 

"I know you've been trying to freak me out all week. Now that I know what you're up to you better know that… _that_ doesn't freak me out anymore."

 

"I beg your pardon?" He's being dense on purpose, but I point to the space under his bed and nod towards it. I may not be freaked out anymore, but the idea of using the word 'dildo' in a conversation with Baz seems- impossible.

 

"Snow, it's charming and disturbing as usual that you think everything I do is to antagonize you, but honestly I haven't been doing anything." He laughs and turns back to me. Suddenly, I'm angry- this entire week has been hell and I know I'm not imagining it. I stomp up to him and rip the pen from his hand, throwing it against the wall.

 

"Don't lie to me!" I hiss at him, wrapping my fists in the collar of his shirt and tugging him towards me, forcing him to pay attention.

 

"Anathema." Baz says offhandedly, looking bored as he studies the expression on my face. He sighs when all I do is grip the collar of his shirt harder, refusing to let him go until I'm finished with him.

 

"Alright Snow, you found my dildo. You're so fucking transparent and now you won't give it a rest. I know it's impossible for you to believe that anything I do isn't directly related to you, but I don't actually own it with the sole intention of freaking you out." Hearing the actual words from him makes me stop. I loosen my grip somewhat and take a moment to think it over. I was so sure that my idea made perfect sense… but now…

 

"If you don't have it to freak me out…"

 

"I use it to get off, Snow." It's everything I've been trying to and failing to avoid thinking about for the last week. Somehow the admission from Baz makes it impossible to ignore what my brain has been fixated on for the past week. Thoughts of Baz wanking, legs spread wide on his bed as he eases the dildo into his hole…

 

I let go of him and back away so quickly I may have teleported. He sits right where I dropped him, looking none the worse for wear, and I swear he almost seems bored of this conversation.

 

"I know this is a novel concept, but if you don't like it, maybe just don’t think about it. I'm sure even in your small, empty mind there's enough room for at least a few other thoughts."

 

When it comes, my voice is like sandpaper, rasping against my lips, licked dry and chapping over and over as I tried to hide the truth from even myself-

 

"But I do like it. I like it so much," The look he gives me at my confession is the one of pure surprise. He looks rattled in a way I've never seen before. I've never been able to get under his skin the way he does to me, but here, in the quiet of our shared room, Baz looks much the same as I've been feeling- teetering on the edge of his last nerve.

 

He opens his mouth, then closes it. Opens it again and we just stare at each other. I feel myself flushing, the blood in me rising, heating my face and neck. His eyes narrow, mouth still halfway open as he tracks the spread of warmth up my chest, up my neck…

 ------------------------------------------------------------------

**BAZ**

 

At first, I'm convinced that I've gotten lost in some kind of fantasy, in an imaginary world where Snow says things like "I like it so much" when thinking about me masturbating. But the longer we sit there, staring awkwardly at each other the more I'm forced to realize, this is reality, and Simon Snow is standing in front of me in our room, practically pulling his hair out because he's so into the idea of me getting off.

 

Well.

 

I can sense the blood rushing up his neck, into his face, the deep flush heady and dangerous. Later, I will blame my reckless words on the intoxicating effect of that flush.

 

"Alright Snow, unless you're going to ask for a demonstration, some of us actually try to take the time to do our assigned homework, so…"

 

He narrows his eyes and looks me up and down as if he's actually considering it. Morgana's tits, it was supposed to be the end of this, something for Snow to scoff at before he decided to faff off to wherever he goes when he's not here. But instead he's still standing there, flushed and narrow eyed as he seems to consider my words. I guess at least one of us should, since I seem to have gone completely mental.

 

"Yeah, alright."

 

First, I'm struck by the very poor choice of words. The implication of almost reluctant agreement isn't actually very enticing. Then the shock of it hits me, and I feel weak, suddenly very grateful to be sitting down as I doubt my knees wouldn't have buckled at the implication behind those words.

 

"What?" I stare as I watch him walk over to my bed, and crouch down, hand reaching until he pulls out the black box. Then he sits down on my bed and turns towards me, staring almost expectantly.

 

This is it. This is really happening. Simon Snow is sitting on my bed and waiting for me to come over and get myself off so he can watch. Part of me wants to laugh hysterically, while another part is warring with my desire to remind Snow to get off my bed.

 

But then, the other, craziest part of myself is making me stand up out of my chair, and start walking towards him, a hand on my chest sliding the buttons of my shirt through their holes. Snow is staring, watching as the skin of my chest is slowly exposed as more and more buttons are freed, until I'm shrugging the shirt off, letting it fall to the ground next to my bed. I force myself to push down the slight irritation at knowing it's lying there a complete mess, and promise myself I'll clean and fold it away properly later. After- whatever this is.

 

His eyes move down, staring at my crotch as I start sliding my belt free, tugging it through my trouser loops and tossing it to the side. His eyes don't waver as my hand rests on the zipper of my trousers, and I feel the first tingle of arousal as I watch the dilation of his pupils, blue swallowed up by black, as I start tugging it down.

 

I kick the trousers to the side, and suddenly I'm standing in front of Snow in just my pants, while he gazes hungrily at all my exposed skin. Being almost completely naked while he's still dressed makes me feel vulnerable, and I raise an eyebrow at him, hoping that he'll get the message.

 

He rolls his eyes at me, and pulls off his shirt impatiently, immediately continuing to stare. The room is darkening as the sun starts going down, but there's still enough light for me to appreciate the golden wash it leaves on his skin, stretched tight over his frame. It's late enough in the year that he's gained back a bit of the weight he'd lost during the summer, and it looks like there's enough heft for me to sink my fingers into- that is, if I ever manage to get my hands on him.

 

Eyeing his chest is just enough to get me going, the tug of arousal in the pit of my stomach giving me the courage to dip my thumbs under the waistband of my pants and slowly tug them down.

 

I feel Snow's eyes on my body like a caress, his gaze sweeping over the bared expanses of skin. I'm not so modest that I'm worried about what he thinks- I know that I'm especially attractive, and I take care of my body to further prove the point. But I'm not so self-confident that the parting of Snow's lips and the beginning of a tent in his trousers doesn't please me.

 

I wrap a fist around myself and give a lazy tug, and the way Snow's eyes follow the movement makes my throat dry. Suddenly he's shifting over, making space for me on the bed and watching, waiting expectantly for me to join him. Crowley, alright. It's all happening now.

 ------------------------------------------------------------------ 

** SIMON **

 

This is the worst idea I've ever had, hands down.

 

Anyone with eyes knows that Baz is attractive, trying to deny it is as pointless as arguing that the sky isn't blue. But without his clothes, he's even better than the half-baked fantasies I've been trying to avoid all week. His skin is immaculate, a single, flawless stretch. The last of the day's sunlight plays across the ridges and valleys of his muscles- a perfect topography.

 

I'm trying to keep it together as Baz arranges himself on the bed, legs spread apart and head tilted back, careful not to touch me as he grabs his wand from the bedside table before casting **Slippery when wet**.

 

He lies back, eyes closed, and I can't look anywhere but at his fingers as the first one slowly circles his hole, before sliding in smoothly. My throat is so dry, I have to swallow twice, transfixed as he lets out a soft sigh and pulls his finger out halfway, pushing back in with two. The sounds he makes as he starts scissoring them, I can't even think properly, and I've never been so hard in my life. I'm so grateful his eyes are closed because I don't think I could handle anything more right now, the sight of his fingers disappearing into his body making me flustered in a way I've never been. I've never really had much of a libido before, and I've finally figured out why, what it takes to get me going. And the answer is the sight of Baz's slender hand, knuckle deep in his own body. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

 ------------------------------------------------------------------

** BAZ **

 

Closing my eyes was supposed to help me forget about Snow sitting on the edge of my bed, and help me relax. I can hear his breathing, and feel the slight dip in the mattress move as he shifts. I decide I'm ready for a third finger, and struggle to catch my breath as I fit my ring finger alongside the others. I physically feel the sound Snow makes in my gut, and respond with my own groan as I ghost my fingers over the swell of my prostate. It's so tempting to just give in, wrap my hand around myself and come just like this, but that wasn't the agreement.

 

I keep my eyes closed as I use my free hand to try and find the dildo, startling when Snow's fingers brush over mine as he places it in my hand. It's warm, he must have been holding it while watching me prepare myself. I take the opportunity to peek a little, and immediately wish I hadn't. The look on Snow's face is ravenous, his lips parted and face flushed and- Crowley, I'm never going to be able to think about anything else ever again am I?

 ------------------------------------------------------------------

** SIMON **

 

He murmurs a quick spell, and runs his hand along the dildo, spreading the slickness end to end. Finally, he pulls his fingers out, whimpering. Watching his hole twitch at the loss has me practically salivating, leaning forward for a better view as he tilts his hips up and presses the tip of the dildo to his hole. Slowly, he starts sinking down, and I'm gasping, breath ragged as I try not to lose my mind. He's so fucking fit, muscles tense and the long line of his throat bared as he hisses and pushes down, a slow smooth slide as I watch the dildo spread him open.

 

I reach down and rub the heel of my hand against the bulge in my own trousers, trying desperately to relieve some tension.

 

Soon, watching the press of the dildo into his body isn't enough, and I lean forward, hand searching. I'm full of wanting, but without the faintest idea of what I need, just a vague notion of needing more, pushing my hand forward until-

 

I jolt as our fingers brush again- his are like ice. I have to remind myself it's because he's a monster. But here, watching his face, eyes closed to pleasure, mouth open and seeking- he looks nothing like a monster. He looks… sensual, sexy. Like something I have always wanted and never knew how to get.

 

"Snow," I startle at the sound of his voice, the strain I hear behind it. He's opened his eyes, blown wide with arousal, only the slightest ring of grey left. I realize a second too late that my hand is still on the dildo, keeping it still.

 

"Stop, let me…" I push his hand away and change my grip. The noise he makes as I slide it forward into his body is… well. 

 ------------------------------------------------------------------

**BAZ**

 

When I woke up this morning I was fairly certain that my meagre list of things to look forward to included creeping on Snow during classes, and maybe if I was lucky getting to watch him fall asleep. But somehow I have ended up in the wildest of all possible universes, where Simon Snow is currently leaning over me, trousers tented, and very intently watching as he continues to fuck me with the dildo.

 

Honestly, I'm the one going out of my mind now.

 

I can't stop the array of noises falling from my mouth, half gasps and moans as I writhe against the sheets. I've done this before on my own plenty, but having him here… well the experience is just that much more intense.

 

I start babbling as Snow finds the perfect angle, rasping against my prostate and flooding me with mind-numbing pleasure.

 

"Crowley, Snow! Simon, Simon! Oh god, Simon, fuck me!"

 

It's so good it takes me a second to register that everything has stopped. I open my eyes blearily and catch Snow, still kneeled between my spread legs, staring at me open mouthed, his face flushed and blotchy.

 

I barely have time to feel embarrassed before he's careening forward, falling onto me, hands winding in the tangle of my hair. I realize what is happening a second before it does, Snow tugging my face to his and finding my lips with his own. There's no finesse in the action, our lips and tongues sliding together messily as we pant together and desperately grind against each other.

 

"Shit, shit, wait." He pulls back, freeing his hands from my hair and sits up before fumbling desperately at his belt buckle. It takes three tries before he successfully frees the button on his trousers and manages the zipper, and I'm just about to make a scathing comment when he gets off the bed, shedding his trousers faster than I've ever seen him do anything. I barely have time to appreciate the view before he pulls down his pants, kicking them to the side before joining me back on the bed.

 

I'll admit- it's not healthy but I've given more than just a passing thought to what Snow looks like naked. Sharing a room for so many years means I've gotten peeks of skin here and there, but I've never actually managed to glimpse him naked before. And for the first time I'm actually grateful because it's only through preparation and years of fantasizing that the perfection of this sight doesn't paralyze me.

 

The constellations of freckles continue from his neck down his chest, scattered artfully over his hips and across his thighs. And Crowley, his cock. He's flushed red with wanting, thick and heavy, the faint shine of wetness at the tip catching my eye. I can feel my mouth pooling with saliva, a tingle in my gums that serves to remind me of my fangs, hidden from view for the time being.

 ----------------------------------------------------------

** SIMON **

 

I've always been kind of self conscious about my body, spending most of the school year making my way from scrawny to doughy, but the way Baz stares as he watches me strip makes me feel… desired. Coveted.

 

I wonder how long he's wanted this.

 

I lean back over him, and he reaches out, almost shyly, running his hands down the sweep of my shoulders, down my back like he can't believe he's allowed to. I can barely believe it- even with all the thoughts I've been trying to avoid this past week, if someone had told me that I'd be here, naked and pressed against my enemy (ex-enemy? Lover?) I would never have believed them.

 

But the sounds Baz makes into my mouth as I lean down to kiss him again are too good to be anything but real. I could never have imagined him so responsive, pliant beneath me. I fumble for a second, hearing him hiss as I gently pull the dildo out and toss it to the floor- my plans for the rest of the night don’t involve it.

 

I swallow his broken gasp as I trail my index finger around his rim, puffy and tender from stretching.

 

"I need-"

 

He gropes around in his side table wildly for a second, before gracelessly shoving a bottle of lube at me. It's the most uncoordinated movement I've ever seen him make, and it makes something in my chest tighten with something like affection, and I lean down to take his mouth again.

 

I struggle as I try to open the bottle and slick my fingers with only a single hand, holding myself above him with the other. We're both rubbing against each other frantically, our cocks sliding and bumping together in an uncoordinated mess.

 

Finally I manage to finagle the tube open, and messily coat my fingers, rubbing them together to warm it up. The surprising rush and tingle of heat distracts me, and I kneel back and look down at the label.

 

"Warming lubricant? Really?" He arches his brows at me and sneers, propping himself up on his elbows to face me properly.

 

"I don't produce a lot of body heat. You'll thank me later."

 

I just laugh as I reach down, and circle his hole with two fingers before sliding them in to the second knuckle. I hear his breath catch, and I pause as I wait for him to adjust. His hands move up and fist in my curls, tugging in a way that isn't unpleasant as he wriggles against my fingers.

 

Crowley, I don't know what I expected, but I wasn't prepared for this. He's warm, wet, and the smooth muscle stretches against my fingers, tighter than I had dared to hope. I scissor and stretch them out, rubbing against the smooth sides of his body and gently ease in a third finger.

 ------------------------------------------------------------------

**BAZ**

 

I'm full, I'm so full and I'm caught between feeling as though I can't handle it, and begging him for more. He's concentrating, rubbing the heel of his hand against the base of his cock as he watches me pant and twitch, his fingers buried deep in my arse.

 

I'm toying with the idea of batting his hand away, and finally getting a hand around his cock when his fingers brush up against my prostate, drawing a shocked moan from my mouth and causing my hips to jump wildly.

 

He grins, and takes his hand off himself, pressing me down into the mattress as he ruthlessly presses and rubs the ends of his fingers against that spot again and again. Somehow, the overstimulation I expect never materializes, and instead I'm left shivering and mewling, the weight of Snow's hand pressing into my hip keeping me pinned to the bed. Every touch is a shock, jolting down my spine and ending in my cock. I can feel myself leaking, spreading wetness on my abdomen.

 

Just when I think I'm about to lose it, I feel the retreat of his fingers, wincing slightly at the loss. Before I can mourn their departure I feel the wet slide of a tongue up my shaft to the crown, licking away the mess I've been making with my excitement.

 

"Aleister Crowley," I pant, feeling the soft press of lips as Snow kisses sloppily down my shaft. I whine when he bites the sensitive skin of my thigh before leaning back on his haunches.

 

"Say my name," he orders, and I'm transfixed as I watch him tip over the half empty bottle of lube and slowly run his hand up and down his cock. Instead I make an undignified sound of jealousy as I watch his fingers work over himself, distracted and wanting.

 

"Say it." He says again, pushing my thighs apart and rubbing the head of his cock against the tender rim of my hole. I have to catch my breath twice before I can focus on anything but the sensation, the actual proof that this is real and going to happen. That Simon Snow is here, in my bed, and about to bugger me senseless.

 

"Oh Gods, Simon. Simon. Fuck, I want this, want you." It's definitely beneath Pitches to beg, but luckily there's no one else here to witness. And if Snow ever brings it up again, I'll lie.

 

"Mhm, pretty words," I'm on the verge of releasing a sarcastic reply when he starts moving, rubbing a soothing hand against my hip as he slowly eases himself into me. My whole world narrows to the slow press of Snow's cock, hot and hard as he slides in. I concentrate on my breathing, working through the slight discomfort of the stretch. Above me, Snow is panting, his mouth hanging open as he trembles with the effort of holding back.

 

"Jesus fuck, Baz." He mumbles against my shoulder, body held taught as he bottoms out. I run my hands through the mess of curls and feel the sweat clinging to his nape. He's so hot, I feel like I'm burning from the inside, his cock and his hands, searing and heavy against my body.

 

I tug on his hair and he lifts his head, eyes catching mine for a beat before leaning forward and closing the distance between our mouths, the wet slide of his tongue in my mouth a promise, mimicking the way our bodies were made to move together.

 ------------------------------------------------------------------

**SIMON**

 

"Move." He orders when we finally break apart to breathe. I scramble to comply, knees sliding against the sheets as I rock backwards. The sound he makes as I push back in is low, wanting, and goes right to my cock. The first few thrusts are good, if a little awkward as we get used to the press of our bodies.

 

He's writhing against the sheets as I fuck him, and finally I stop and grab his calf, dragging him closer and guiding it around my waist, holding him in place. I start up again, pressing in harder, faster, pleased when he takes the hint and crosses his ankle around the small of my back, keeping us together as I rut into the slick warmth of his body.

 

The sounds we make are obscenely loud in the quiet tower, the slap of skin against skin, the huffing breaths, the exclamations of pleasure- but I can't bring myself to care, each sound only ramping up my excitement, the proof that he wants this just as much as I do.

 

He shifts restlessly beneath me, eyes closed and fingers tangled in the sheets above his head. I feel the effects of the change in angle before I see it, the grasp around my cock tightening as he cries out, chest heaving. My hands move from the tangle of sheets at his sides and grasp his hips, pressing him into the mattress, holding him where I want him while I fuck him harder- leveraging my weight to try and get deeper, wringing the pleasure from where our bodies are joined, slick and hot.

 

It's not long before I feel the familiar tension growing, and I blindly grope above our heads for one of Baz's hands, gripping him by the wrist and dragging down, down, shoving it between our bodies. My hand joins his on his cock, squeezing and tugging as I grunt and sweat, hips pumping, chasing my release.

 

The tension in him comes to a crescendo, and suddenly I'm pushing against him, holding him down as Baz arches his back below me and moans, his head thrown back as I feel his body pulsate and tighten. I drag my hand through the warm wetness on his belly, sliding until I grip the edge of his hip. He's still panting, taking in deep heaves of breath below me, and I lean down, finding his open mouth with my own. The long slow slide of his tongue against mine is my undoing, and suddenly I am shuddering, surrendering to the tight grip of his warm body, the press of his hands against my back an anchor as I lose myself in the feeling of him.

 ------------------------------------------------------------------

**BAZ**

 

The aftermath is extremely undignified, and more than a little disgusting. We're twined together on my sheets, covered in sweat, come, and saliva, and I finally understand the big fuss everyone makes about sex. I feel light, satiated, and a newfound appreciation for my undead body- for the pleasure I wrung from it, for what it was able to give to Snow.

 

He's barely stirring, twitching a little from where he collapsed against my chest, arms weak from the prolonged stress of holding himself above me. Our breathing is slowly becoming more controlled, and I am hyper aware of the rush of blood in him, bounding and slowly settling as his heart rate comes back down.

 

This was… phenomenal, unbelievable. The most exhausting and rewarding thing I've ever done. I just had sex for the first time, with Simon Snow- something I never even imagined was in the realm of possibility. And now, even if this changes nothing between us, I'll always have this perfect memory to look back on.

 

I wait until I feel him shifting, slowly rising himself on his elbows, looking at me with a dazed expression I tend to associate with him when he first wakes up. For once, I am a complete loss of what to do. What exactly is appropriate to say to your lifelong enemy, right after he shags you spectacularly?

 ------------------------------------------------------------------

**SIMON**

 

We stare at each other, and it's pretty obvious neither of us knows what to do now. I wish I had to words to express what I'm feeling right now- gratitude, disbelief, a sense of profound wonder- and the small part of me that is sincerely frustrated for all the time we've spent in this room, fighting and antagonizing each other when we could have been doing _this_. But I never have the words I need, so instead I lean back down and take his mouth with my own, the slide of tongue and the press of my lips trying to express the truth I feel welling up in me.

 

"Nothing's changed." He rasps against my jaw, as I pull back to taste the corner of his lush mouth.

 

"No," I agree, taking one of his hands in mine as I lick down the column of his neck, tasting the sweat beaded on his skin, "You're still going to be the death of me, and now I know you have things you're hiding from me." He shivers as I tug the soft skin between my teeth, laving it with my tongue and rolling it between my teeth.

 

"And I'm still completely obsessed with you."

 

The quick laugh he gives at that is a blessing, and I feel the tension caused by my uncertainty melt away. This time, he's the one to tug my mouth back up to his, and the small smile I find there is something completely new.

 

Nothing's changed, he said.

 

But we've still got time.

**Author's Note:**

> PSA: Fiction is fun, but IRL safe sex is sexy.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


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